Monday, 12 May 2014

More than
90 years after they were first published, James Cowan’s accounts of the New
Zealand Wars[1]
continue to resonate.The wars, and
Cowan’s role as a chronicler, were key themes of Borderland[2],
an exhibition in the Turnbull Gallery curated by my colleague Ariana
Tikao.One wall of the gallery space was
devoted to Ōrākau, the site of the iconic 1864 battle[3]
and where Cowan’s family farmed from 1870.

View of the Borderland exhibition in the Turnbull Gallery.Photo: Mark Beatty.

As Ariana
noted in her exhibition text, Cowan believed the shared experience of these
wars brought Māori and Pākehā closer together.This theme was echoed in a tribute written by Prime Minister Peter
Fraser after Cowan’s death: ‘He taught the larger lesson of mutual
understanding; he saw the two cultures, Maori and Pakeha, meet and clash; he
had a profound knowledge of the dignity and beauty of both, and his life was
dedicated to their fusion’[4].

Clearly,
battles like Ōrākau, where Colonial troops surrounded Māori in an unfinished
pā, were a clash of cultures.But were
they also about mutual understanding and fusion?Attending the events for the 150th
anniversary of the battle was a good place to consider this question.

Normally visitors
to Ōrākau can’t walk on much of the battle site, now spread across farms
divided by Arapuni Road.A narrow strip
of land on one side of the road has a small car parking area, and landscaping
featuring a small wooden sign:

ORAKAU BATTLESITE

(FOUGHT 1864).

Beside the
car park is a stone wall with three brass plaques and steps leading to a marble
obelisk unveiled on 1 April 1914 (erected as part of the 50th Jubilee
Commemorations[5]),
where the pā was until recently, thought to have been.One of the brass plaques reproduces a map of
the pā and battle site in 1864, alongside another plaque with this text:

ON THIS SITE IN AN UNFINISHED PA ABOUT 300 MAORIS WITH SOME WOMEN AND
CHILDREN, POORLY ARMED AND WITH LITTLE FOOD AND NO WATER, HELD AT BAY 1500
BETTER EQUIPPED BRITISH AND COLONIAL TROOPS, REFUSING TO SURRENDER, ON THE
THIRD DAY A REMNANT OF THE MAORIS ESCAPED ACROSS THE PUNIU RIVER.

The third
plaque informs visitors ‘THIS PICNIC AREA WAS CONSTRUCTED BY THE WAIPA COUNTY
COUNCIL TO MARK THE CENTENNIAL OF THE BATTLE OF ORAKAU’.Picnic tables have only recently been
removed, perhaps out of deference to the presence of a number of graves in the
vicinity (as noted on the map plaque).

Recent
archaeological research suggests the pā was in a different area, behind and to
the left of the car park, on the farm paddock on the other side of the
fence.This area was the focus of the
150th anniversary events, away from the existing memorial area.Perhaps this was because of logistics – the
small space couldn’t accommodate many cars and the road was closed to most
traffic for the first day of the commemorations – but it could also be read as
a symbolic rejection of the way Ōrākau has been ‘officially’ remembered to
date.

Of the
thousands who attended the 50th commemorations in 1914, ‘the
attendance of natives was not notable’, according to one newspaper, which
continued ‘It was hardly to be expected it would be.If you first take a man’s land, and then
fight him when he objects, it is hardly likely that he will take a particularly
keen interest when you record the incident with a monument, even though your
desire to recognise and record at the same time his heroic bravery be genuine
and sincere.’[6]So when another report noted the prevailing
tone of the 11 speeches ‘was one of rejoicing at the amity now existing between
the two races,’[7] this
may not have been widely shared by Māori.The report exemplifies what the historian Jamie Belich called the
‘laundered legend of the New Zealand Wars, which emphasized the courage and
Christian chivalry of Maori resisters over and above their effectiveness.The wars were portrayed as minor squabbles,
after which the combatants kissed and made up.’[8]

The 1964
commemorations were covered in an account by Harry Dansey, published in Te
Ao Hou magazine.[9]After a service at St John’s Church at Te
Awamutu, Major General Leonard Thornton unveiled the brass tablets mentioned
above.Dansey’s conclusion challenges
the ‘laundered legend’ of the Waikato Wars:

‘The smiling green fields lie like a great
garden round the spot where heroes died for a lost and hopeless cause. It is
easy to pray for those who bled there, men and women, whatever side they were
on. The heart warms too at the
compassion of the soldiers who pleaded with the Maoris to end the slaughter and
to surrender. But looking round it calls
for the utmost Christian charity to find within oneself a kindly thought, let
alone a prayer for those who punished such heroes by confiscating their land.’[10]

The text on
the plaques unveiled in 1964 suggest Dansey’s view was a minority one.In 2014 it wasn’t just the physical siting of
the commemorations that signalled a challenge to the ‘laundered legend’ of the
wars.The 150th anniversary
commemorations were led by Māori, quite distinct from the 50th and
100th anniversaries.The
events also attracted dignitaries whose predecessors were absent in 1914 and
1964: the Māori King, the Prime Minister and the Governor General.For the first time, the commemorations
featured a hīkoi from the battle site to the Puniu River several kilometres
away, where the battle survivors fled from the colonial troops.

We arrived
just before 7.30am, in time for the first pōwhiri between Waikato Tainui and
other iwi who’d joined them at Ōrākau.After some of the whaikōrero, framed paintings and photographs of tipuna
were presented to the King and displayed on a temporary wall.

Waikato Tainui welcoming iwi from around the country whose tīpuna fought at
Ōrākau.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

Then it was
time for breakfast – served a few hundred metres away, beside an espresso cart
in the middle of a paddock (just visible at the right of this image).

Parakuihi – breakfast in the sunshine at Ōrākau.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

After
breakfast, it was time for a second welcome, for the Crown
representatives.By now, the sun was at
its height, and it became more obvious that we were in drought-affected
Waikato.The baked ground meant that the
whakataukī (proverb), tutū te puehu (stirring up the dust) – referring to the
speaker stirring up dust with the power of oratory – was literally true.

Haka pōwhiri - dust rising at Ōrākau.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

After the
pōwhiri, a series of speakers addressed the crowd, including two young people,
who both made a connection between the New Zealand Wars and the conflicts
remembered on Anzac Day.Corey Wilson, a
Junior Black Sox player and recent Commerce graduate, asked why Anzac Day was
commemorated in nearby Kihikihi but not the other conflicts much closer to
home, such as Rangiaowhia.‘We need to
teach all our children about these battles.’Wilson was followed by Melissa Carpenter-Monk, a teacher at Waipa Primary
School, who’d only recently learned about the New Zealand Wars, even though her
ancestors fought on both sides.‘I
understood Anzac but had no concept of what happened on our own shores.Monk called for better recognition of the
battle site, ‘this paddock where farm animals graze and poo’.This theme was continued by the final
speaker, Kaawhia Te Muraahi, the President of the Ōrākau Heritage Society, who
reiterated a call for the establishment of a national day of remembrance for
all the victims of the colonial wars.This would bring the wars of the colonial period into the Anzac
frame.Kaawhia said the lessons of
Ōrākau are about forgiveness and compassion, ‘that’s why it’s important to keep
the narrative alive’.He called on those
assembled to support the proposal for the Crown to purchase the battle site
from the owners Sue and Chris Kay, who want to sell.

The next
day, Chris Kay was part of the group who led the hīkoi to the Puniu River.Looking back 100 metres from the start of the
hīkoi, we had a different perspective of the pā site and its elevation.The marquees are roughly where the pā is now
believed to have been.

Looking back towards the site of the Ōrākau Battle commemorations.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

On
the hīkoi from the Ōrākau battle site to the Puniu River.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

Along the
way there were stops, and a sound system was set up for the sharing of stories
about the battle.

One of the stops during the hīkoi to the Puniu River.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

Not all the
stories related to the battle.Some
reflected the experience of being brought together as a group – Māori, Pākeha,
young, and not so young.Garrick Priestly,
son of Ōrākau Heritage Society member Thia Priestly, had come across from
Australia for the commemorations.During
the hīkoi he spoke about hearing one Pākehā child ask another ‘do you want to
be Māori?’‘Yes’, replied the other
child, ‘but only half’.

By the time
the hīkoi reached the Puniu River we were all keenly aware of the distance the
escapees travelled and how tired they must have been. The children and some of the adults headed to
the river to cool off, while others sheltered from the sun.

Participants on the hīkoi cooling off after reaching the Puniu River.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

Before the
group left to return to the battle site, signatures were collected ‘for the
next anniversary’, and a group photo was taken.

The group that walked from Ōrākau to the Puniu River.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

Children
from Kihikihi School did the haka they’d performed a day earlier. The haka includes the words of defiance
attributed to Rewi Maniapoto[11],
which look set to endure.The children
have the best chance of being around for the 200th commemorations in
2064: what will they remember about the day?A swim in the sun?How will the
battle be remembered by then?Will the
students’ haka still be performed?How
will people see the 150th anniversary commemorations?

Children from Kihikihi School perform their haka about the battle of
Ōrākau.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

The walkers
arrived back at the battle site at 3.30pm, the time that the pā defenders fled
for the river.Chris Kay, who owns the
land with his wife, spoke to the group, reiterating that he didn’t believe the
land should be in private ownership.

Chris (pictured) and Sue Kay own the land which includes part of the Ōrākau pā
and battle site.Photo: Mark Bagnall.

Whatever
happens with the land, the events at Ōrākau in 2014 are an example of Māori and
Pākehā working together.The
commemorations (which have been happening since 2012, led by The Battle of O-Rākau
Heritage Society Inc[12])
wouldn’t have been possible without the cooperation and generosity of the Kays
and the other land owners who facilitated the hīkoi.Perhaps Cowan’s vision wasn’t so far-fetched
after all.He is responsible for keeping
legends about the battle alive (many of the speeches at Ōrākau in 2014 quoted
from his work), but it’s also important to remember that he campaigned for a
memorial on the battle site.After the
commemorations, plans were announced for the development of a living memorial[13].The memorials left after previous anniversaries
speak to the attitudes of those times – what will be the physical legacy of
2014, and what will it say about this generation?

By Paul
Diamond

Paul Diamond (Ngāti Hauā, Te Rarawa and Ngāpuhi)
was appointed Curator, Māori at the Alexander Turnbull Library in 2011. He worked as an accountant for seven years,
before switching to journalism in 1997.
Paul is the author of two books (A Fire in Your Belly, Huia 2003;
and Makereti: taking Māori to the World, Random House NZ 2007), and has
also worked as an oral historian and broadcaster. From 2007 to 2009 Paul managed the Vietnam
War Oral History Project for the Ministry for Culture and Heritage.